


One Week

by BarricadeButterfly



Series: My Enjoltaire One Shots [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, M/M, Male Slash, Married Couple, Married Life, One Shot Collection, Romance, Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarricadeButterfly/pseuds/BarricadeButterfly
Summary: A collection of one shots focusing on "a week in the life" of Enjolras and Grantaire as an established married couple. Expect plenty of tooth-rotting fluff!Hope you enjoy E and R experiencing domestic bliss! (Mostly!)
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: My Enjoltaire One Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927930
Comments: 11
Kudos: 67





	1. Monday - Kids & Cake

_*** In which Enjolras and Grantaire attend their little goddaughter's birthday party and have a revelation ***_

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

Grantaire walked out of the bedroom doing up his cuffs and grinned at the sight of his distressed husband sat on the floor of their lounge, surrounded by rolls of brightly coloured gift wrap and cascades of rainbow ribbons.

“The gift wrapping or the birthday party?”

Enjolras looked up from his task as he unrolled a length of sellotape and ripped it with his teeth. When he saw the face of Grantaire smirking down at him, he wrinkled his nose in a show of distaste and said “Both.”

It wasn’t that Enjolras didn’t love his little goddaughter, nor that he was unwilling when persuaded to engage in yet another game of Pin The Tale On The Donkey (he always won); right then, the biggest issue was trying to gift wrap a cuddly stegosaurus that seemed to have more protrusions than was surely necessary.

Grantaire couldn’t stifle the laugh as he watched Enjolras fight to attach another strip of tape, only for one of the creature’s legs to spring up and rip through the paper. “You having fun there?”

Enjolras held out the roll of tape to the awaiting hand with a pout, glad to be able to pass the job on to his more adept husband. “Why can’t she like something that’s easier to wrap like… I don’t know, a book or something?”

“She’s three! I don’t think books are all that appealing to her yet.”

“Well at least a dinosaur that’s got less bloody horns! Anyway, I liked books when I was three,” said Enjolras although he was smiling now because he secretly adored the fact that this sweet little girl had an obsession with dinosaurs. It was like she was already sticking her tongue out at gender stereotypes and rising to an innocent rebellion. Perhaps she had been spending too much time with her Uncle Enj.

“Yeah, but you were special,” Grantaire teased.

“I choose to take that as a compliment,” said Enjolras, reaching over to plant a kiss on his husband’s cheek before he rose to his feet.

“Go get your sexy ass ready while I get this finished. And don’t linger too long in the shower, remember we have to pick up the cake on our way round.”

“ _Ooh,_ I _LOVE_ it when you’re so dominant,” Enjolras called as he walked away and earned himself a playful whack around the legs with the cardboard tube.

*

An hour later, they were in the car driving to Marius and Cosette’s house, Grantaire behind the wheel and Enjolras beside him, balancing the cake box precariously on his knees with the bag of now neatly wrapped gifts wedged between his knees.

“All I’m saying is it doesn’t look like a T-Rex,” said Enjolras, as he carefully lifted a corner of the box to inspect it yet again. “Doesn’t look very terrifying.”

“Will you stop worrying? She’ll love it. Besides, I don’t think we’d be too popular if we turned up with a cake that made all the kids cry. Not all three year olds are as hard core as our little Genevieve.”

Enjolras tensed a little in his seat. “How many kids are coming to this thing?”

“Marius told me about eight or ten I think,” said Grantaire and took one hand off the steering wheel to give his husband’s leg an affectionate squeeze. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

Enjolras didn’t like feeling incapable in any aspect of life and he was painfully aware of his ineptness when it came to dealing with children. Genevieve was different, of course. She had spent much of her three years on earth with her two beloved “uncles” and there had been many sleepovers at their house when Marius and Cosette were sleep deprived and desperate for respite. On those occasions, Enjolras loved nothing more than turning the kitchen upside down while baking cookies with her or snuggling up to read a bedtime story before she inevitably dozed off in his arms.

However, when it came to other children, he just seemed to struggle to bond with them. It didn’t come naturally, anyhow, unlike his infuriatingly perfect husband who could sit in a ball pit surrounded by masses of hyperactive, sugar-high children pelting him with plastic ammunition and not be in the slightest bit fazed.

Enjolras sighed. “I guess it’ll be different when it’s ours.”

It wasn’t immediately clear which one of them was more taken aback by that statement. Grantaire’s eyes darted to those of his husband beside him who looked as shocked to have spoken the words as Grantaire was to hear them. “Did you just say what I think you just said?”

“Umm… apparently so… Did I?”

Grantaire looked back at the road and breathed deeply to calm himself. He had long ago accepted that children were unlikely to be a part of their lives as a couple and something he would just have to learn to live without. Being a father was something he had always wanted but so was Enjolras and he had made his choice four years ago at their wedding and not regretted it once, even if some days his heart hurt a little more than he would have liked to admit.

There was a moment or two of silence before Grantaire said quietly, “A child, Enj… A child?”

Enjolras had shuffled round in his seat so he could face the man who was staring so hard at the road and wished more than anything that he was free at that very moment to pull him into his arms.

“Why not? We could at least start looking into it, couldn’t we?”

“I think we need to have a long talk first.”

Grantaire couldn’t glance at his husband again right then because he knew it would be enough to invoke the sudden flow of tears he was trying so hard to stem.

“Lets do that,” said Enjolras and smiled to himself. “And for what it’s worth, you would make a great dad.”

*

The tension of unspoken words was heavy between them by the time they arrived at the party and Enjolras wished he’d kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t because he regretted the words, he only wished he’d had the sense to wait until a more appropriate time to raise the subject. He knew he could be impulsive at times and doubtless Grantaire was wondering over the validity of his interest in the idea. Enjolras wouldn’t blame him at all for that.

As they got out of the car and made their way to the garden gate, it was a welcome relief to hear the excited squeals and babble of the sea of children beyond. Grantaire led the way, elbowing the balloons out of the way as he pushed the gate open.

“At last! Back up has arrived!” Cosette exclaimed as she strode across the garden and enclosed them, one after the other, in a quick but tight embrace. “Is that the cake?”

“One non-scary chocolate T-Rex with green buttercream icing,” Enjolras announced as he held out the box for Cosette to take. “Entirely non-threatening and delicious.”

Cosette laughed as she peeked inside the box. “Oh it’s perfect, Gen will _LOVE_ it! Thanks guys.”

Glad to have his hands freed at last, Enjolras quickly linked his fingers with Grantaire’s because it was the only way he could think of right at that moment to acceptably show his husband the affection he suspected was needed.

“Where is the birthday girl?” asked Grantaire, giving Enjolras’ hand a quick squeeze as he felt it link with his. He scanned the grass that was littered with discarded paper cups and streamers and the odd random shoe laying on its side here and there. Despite the mess, there was only two children to be seen running back and forth between the chestnut trees. The gravelled path, however, led around the side of the house to where the garden opened out and the raucous that was coming from that direction indicated a substantially greater scene awaiting.

“ _GEN! YOUR UNCLES ARE HERE!”_ Cosette turned her head to shout and before she’d finished getting the words out, a squealing little girl in a fluffy purple dinosaur onesie came hurtling around the corner, the fabric horns on top of her head wobbling madly and falling down over her face.

“Uncy Taire! Uncy Ej!” she shrieked, as she threw her arms around Grantaire’s legs.

Grantaire bent down to scoop her up into his arms and Enjolras leant in to place a kiss on her cheek but when he did so, she threw her arms around his neck to keep him there.

“Happy birthday sweetheart,” Enjolras said when he was finally released and tapped her on the nose, making her giggle. “You having a good party?”

“I got some dinosaur play dough, and Ben brought me lego but I’s already got it but Mum says we gonna change it and we got jelly and popcorn,” she rambled, falling over her words in the excitement of getting them out.

“Oh wow, are you gonna show us?” said Grantaire as he placed the wriggling child back onto her feet. She replied by reaching up to grab his hand and lead the way as fast as her little legs would allow.

Enjolras looked at Cosette as she breathed out an exhausted sigh and blew away a free strand of messy hair that had come loose from her bun. He laughed and enclosed her in another hug because she looked like she needed it. “You ok?”

“Exhausted but good,” she said as she allowed herself to be held and rubbed a grateful hand over his back.

“Where’s Marius? Hope he’s pulling his weight,” said Enjolras when he released her.

“Hah!” she exclaimed. “Wait until you see.”

Enjolras followed her into the garden where he was met with a scene of what could only be described as happy chaos. There were balloons and streamers draped and tied onto every available surface, some floating free and being batted across the grass, paper plates with half eaten sandwiches and cupcake wrappers littered everywhere, upturned cups and pointy party hats, masses of torn wrapping paper, little gatherings of people chasing children about or stood chatting over plastic glasses of lemonade and if that was ten children or less then he needed glasses! Amongst it all, taking pride of place in the middle of the garden was a giant bouncy castle and currently ricocheting at dizzying heights from one side to the other was Marius, sending several smaller lighter bodies shrieking with laughter as he landed with force and sent them vaulting up into the air.

“Oh, I’m already there!” said Enjolras as his eyes lit up and he started to kick off his shoes.

As he raced over to join them, Cosette laughed and shouted after him “You boys are all as bad as each other!”

*

As the afternoon continued, the little party goers began to leave one by one, some with cries of protest and some asleep in their parents’ arms. By the time the sun was beginning to set and the air was cooling, there were only three toddlers left but their parents were Cosette’s closest friends and unlikely to leave anytime soon. As the little group of women moved their garden chairs into the last warm patch of sun, the children were either playing on the blanket at their feet or still bouncing with considerably less vigour on the inflatable castle.

Grantaire had migrated into the kitchen with Marius to help him clean up and they were stood either end of the room, Grantaire with his hands submerged in a washing up bowl full of soapy water and Marius bent over the rubbish bin, tying the ends of yet another full bag, when Enjolras came in from outside with Genevieve asleep in his arms.

“Cosette said to take her straight through to her bedroom,” he whispered as the two men turned to observe him.

Marius gave him a nod of agreement and as Enjolras walked past Grantaire, he gave him a little wink and earned a smile from his husband.

In Genevieve’s bedroom, Enjolras laid her carefully onto her bed where she snuggled onto her side, still clutching her new cuddly stegosaurus which had been declared her “very best friend” and he covered her with the duvet, reaching down to brush a soft kiss onto her forehead before he crept out, pulling the door almost closed behind him.

Back in the kitchen, Marius had gone and Grantaire was stood leaning against the sink, waiting for his husband to reappear. When he did so, he threw him a smile and held out his arms.

“You ok?” said Enjolras, as he folded himself into the loving embrace.

“Mmm,” Grantaire murmured in reply. “Even better now.”

“Same. It’s been a good day.”

After a moment of just enjoying the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, Grantaire spoke next.

“You would too, you know.”

Enjolras drew himself back just far enough to be able to look into his husband’s eyes. “I would what?”

“Make a great dad,” said Grantaire and smiled.


	2. Tuesday - Blackout

_*** In which Grantaire seems to be (quite literally) under a black cloud and Enjolras makes it better because he's just that bloody awesome ***_

It was just one of those days when nothing went right.

Leaving his wallet at home and getting to the studio only to find the milk had gone off and he had no cash to replace it was just the beginning. By midday, when Grantaire was still stood in front of a blank canvas with several screwed up papers littered about his feet and a severe case of caffeine withdrawal, it became evident the day was not likely to improve. The painting he had been commissioned to create was supposed to be ready by next week for the opening ceremony at the local gallery and he had yet to apply a single brush stroke with which he was happy.

Experience told him to recognise when he was beat and considering there was milk and coffee back at home, it seemed like the most sensible idea to give up here and see if he would have more luck there. Perhaps after a coffee or five.

Gathering up the essentials he would need to take with him in case inspiration hit, he cleared down his work station in the studio and locked it up, only to find once he’d got outside that the rain had started to fall. Clearly it had been a great decision to leave the car at home and walk in today!

As Grantaire pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head and made his way at a swift pace towards home, the phone in his pocket rang and when he pulled it out and saw the name _APOLLO_ flashing up on the screen, it gave him his first smile of the last few hours.

“Hey sexy, how’s it going?” Enjolras’ voice came down the line.

“Bloody shit day,” Grantaire moaned gloomily. “How’s work?”

“Hectic. I’ve got about 15 minutes for lunch. Why’s it shit? And what’s that noise?”

“Rain. I’m currently getting a thorough soaking on my way home from the studio,” said Grantaire, pulling his hood down further over his head as the rain hardened. It felt like it was turning into hail pelting him as he dashed along and considering how grey the sky above him had suddenly turned, it was not really a surprise when a rumble of thunder echoed. “Fuck, did you hear that? I think a storm’s coming.”

“Jesus, I’m looking out the window now. It’s really coming down! Why didn’t you take the car?”

“Because I’m a bloody idiot.”

“Yeah but _MY_ bloody idiot with a damn fine ass.”

In spite of his mood, Grantaire laughed. “I wish you weren’t at work. I could really use a hug when I get home. And a towel too, probably.”

“I won’t be too late tonight. Hugs are coming baby. Do you want me to pick up a takeaway on the way home? Something really unhealthy and bad and delicious?”

Again, Grantaire smiled to himself and was glad no one else was crazy enough to be out in this weather and able to see him looking so ridiculous. There were times when his husband infuriated the hell out of him but there were also times when he was a complete and utter blessing. “No, I’ll cook. It’ll give me something to do. 6 o’ clock, yeah?”

“At the latest.”

*

By the time Grantaire was scurrying up the steps to the front door with his keys in his hand ready, he could barely see through the sheet of rain that was battering him and his clothes were so drenched that it felt as if his weight had doubled since leaving the studio. With numb fingers, he rushed to unlock the door and finally take sanctuary in the dry warmth of home.

A hot shower and a long awaited mug of coffee did wonders for improving his mood and by the time he was stood in fleecy pyjamas in front of the open door of the fridge, contemplating what to cook for dinner, he felt much more like himself again. It even seemed prudent to play some Debussy in the background (it always inspired him) and make another attempt at his canvas after he’d got food prepared for later.

However, he ended up with the chance to do neither as within minutes of switching on the oven, the thing turned itself off. It wasn’t immediately clear what had happened until the sound of the raging storm at the window drew his attention and the penny dropped. Cursing under his breath, Grantaire reopened the fridge door (yup, no light there) and flicked the switch for the nearby lamp to find a similar outcome. Despite the grey skies outside, there was still a reasonable amount of daylight and though there was no need for it right then, it seemed like a good idea to head for the utility room and grab some candles from the box while there was still enough natural light to guide him. From the way the storm was pummelling the world outside, it didn’t seem likely the power cut would be rectified any time soon.

The hours passed slowly and even as the storm eased, the power remained out and Grantaire was glad he’d readied the candles because it was quickly becoming evident that they would be needed. By the rapidly dying light of day, he made sandwiches for later (with no cooker it was either that or a tin of cold ravioli which was easily the less appealing of the two options) and when they were covered and cooling in the considerably less cool fridge, he grabbed a soda and lit some candles.

The rest of the street looked equally dark and when Enjolras eventually arrived home from work, Grantaire was stood at the window of the front bedroom, scanning the windows of the other houses for signs of electricity and finding none. It was eerily quiet too, but for the steady patter of rain on the glass, and the sound of the tyres crunching over the gravel below seemed louder than usual. Leaning forwards slightly until his forehead made contact with the glass, Grantaire gazed down in time to see his husband exit the car and slam the door shut, blonde curls dancing as he hot-footed it to the door.

A moment later, the sound of footsteps echoed on the stairs and still at his window-watching position, Grantaire turned his head just as Enjolras walked into the room, shaking the water from his hair and raising a hand to push it out of his eyes.

“The whole area is out. It’s like a ghost town!” he exclaimed as he kicked off his shoes, shrugged off his blazer and walked over to his husband, wrapping his arms around him from behind and leaning his head against the man’s back with a sigh. “You’re so warm.”

“And your hands are freezing!” Grantaire said with a laugh as he covered the knotted hands resting against his stomach with his own and rubbed some warmth into them.

“It’s nice in here with the candles on. How many have we got?”

“Enough to last us if we keep to one room.”

Enjolras sighed again as he nuzzled his cheek against his husband’s shoulder and snuggled into him. “In that case I vote for this one. But I think we should close the curtains to preserve our warmth and dignity.”

“Dignity?” Grantaire echoed as he glanced over his shoulder and threw his husband a suspicious smirk.

“Hey I don’t want the neighbours to watch me bending you over the bed.”

Grantaire involuntarily licked his top lip and grinned. “Wow… should have power cuts more often if this is the effect it has on you!”

“Hey, candles are romantic and you know it.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Jehan!” he laughed as he reached forward to pull the curtains together. It plunged the room into a deeper darkness than he had expected and the next thought Grantaire had was to light another candle as Enjolras’ arms released him.

However, before he’d had the chance to move a single step, his husband was back sliding his arms around him once more and it took Grantaire only a second to realise he had brought the duvet with him.

Feeling the warmth of it cocooning him with Enjolras’ arms to keep them secure inside it, he laughed. “What are you doing?”

“Making myself a Grantaire burrito,” said Enjolras, his voice somewhat muffled. “It’s bloody cold.”

“Oh! I made sandwiches if you’re hungry.”

“Mmmm,” came the supressed response, vibrating with a warm breath into the space between Grantaire’s shoulder blades. “Later. Lets just stay here for a while.”

Grantaire shuffled round, discovering how challenging that was to actually do when being held in place by a duvet, and face to face with his husband, looped his arms around his neck. “Ok, out with it. What are you after? You’re never this clingy unless you want something.”

“Moi? As if,” Enjolras shot back with an expression of feigned offense. There was a smirk on his face as he leant in to kiss his bemused husband but when he drew away again a moment later, it had gone and he spoke in a more hushed and serious tone. “I’ve just been worried about you today. I know my guy well enough to know when something’s not right. Thought some TLC might be in order.”

Grantaire reached his hand around to the back of Enjolras’ head to draw him closer for another kiss. “You shouldn’t worry about me, I’m fine. Just had one of those days. I didn’t give in though… I didn’t do it.”

Neither man spoke for a moment but there was no need because they each knew they were thinking the exact same thing.

“At the risk of sounding even more clingy and pathetic, I’m proud of you, you know,” said Enjolras eventually. “I know it’s not easy for you on bad days.”

Grantaire allowed his eyes to close for the briefest of seconds. He didn’t want to allow his memory to recall the taste of alcohol as it had been over a year now since he’d last experienced it. For a moment he also couldn’t allow himself to look into those beautiful trusting loyal eyes and have to remember the amount of times he had seen heartbreak in them over his past actions. There were some memories that would be etched inside him forever but that didn’t mean he had to embrace them. His husband, on the other hand-

“To be fair, it does help when I can at least have a damn coffee,” he said with a soft smile and gathered Enjolras further into his arms.

All of a sudden, the duvet was dropped from around them and Enjolras took his husband by the hands and pulled him into the centre of the room. “Come on, lets take your mind off it.”

“What are you doing?” Grantaire asked with a sceptical laugh as he allowed himself to be led.

“Dancing with my husband,” Enjolras replied as he swept the man back into his embrace and began to sway his hips, one hand moving to Grantaire’s waist to encourage him to mimic the movement. “Dancing by candlelight in the middle of a storm because it’s just so damn romantic.”

The way Enjolras moved, the way the muted light caught his eyes and made them sparkle, the shadow that fell across his face, the faint sheen on his lips as he grinned that provocative grin which he knew his husband couldn’t resist; it was all enough to make Grantaire’s knees tremble in much the same way as they had all those years ago when this man had first burst into his life and changed everything forever. At times he wondered if it was even healthy to love someone this much but for all the vices he had succumbed to over the years, Enjolras was one he was happy to be repeatedly claimed by.

“Smooth,” he said with a nod and laughed softly into the still damp blonde curls that nestled against his face as they twirled slowly. “What are you humming?”

“Can’t you tell?” Enjolras replied and continued humming the tune a little louder.

Grantaire fell quiet and listened as he allowed himself to be swayed gently in time to the rhythm. After a few moments, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“Clair De Lune,” he whispered and when Enjolras nodded and promptly stopped humming, he added “Don’t stop. It sounds lovely.”

The room was in desperate need of another candle being lit as the darkness of night was pressing in and one of the tapers that had been up until now throwing a soft glow across one corner had apparently burnt out. Neither of the figures enclosed in each others arms and swaying gently in the centre of the room had any inclination to attend to the matter, however. After a while, the darker haired one reached a hand into his pocket, withdrew his mobile phone and after a few swipes on the screen, threw it down onto the bed from where, a second later, an identical melody rose up and mingled with the amateurish mimic coming from his husband’s mouth.

“Is that your way of shutting me up?” said Enjolras as he allowed the recorded sound of Debussy to take over serenading his man.

“No, this is,” said Grantaire and drew him in for another kiss.

Despite the lack of coffee and light and all the other little mishaps he had stumbled over so far, it couldn’t be denied that the day seemed to be improving at last.


	3. Wednesday - Cold Cappuccino

_*** In which some of the Les Amis are redecorating the top room of the Cafe Musain and eating muffins ***_

_“INCOMING!!”_

Enjolras’ head bobbed up from where he was kneeling just in time to see a paintbrush hurtling straight at his face.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, ducking as he instinctively reached out a hand to catch the missile and then breathed out a relieved sigh to find it wasn’t loaded.

From across the room of the café Musain, Grantaire laughed. “It’s dry, you nutter! Do you think I’m gonna lob a wet paintbrush at you?”

“If you’re pissed enough at me, yeah,” said Enjolras, inflicting a pointed raised-brow expression at his husband.

Again, Grantaire laughed. “That was a towel, not a paintbrush, and you deserved it.”

“It was still _wet!_ ”

“Fair enough, but if you’re gonna marry a wild and passionate artiste, you gotta be prepared to be covered in paint every now and then,” said Grantaire, blowing his husband a kiss and laughing when he received a finger gesture in return.

The ladder that was propped up in the space between them suddenly teetered in place and Bahorel’s voice came floating down from somewhere above. “Can we please leave passion out of the equation for now? It’s taken me ages to get this coving done. I really don’t want to throw up all over it.”

At that moment, Courfeyrac appeared at the top of the stairs, stopping dead on the top step and taking in the scene with a wide-eyed stare of apprehension. “Passion? What the hell have I missed?”

“Ah, you’re too late Courf, the orgy’s over. You missed the best bit,” Grantaire teased.

“Ignore him,” said Enjolras with a smirk as he rose to his feet and moved to greet his friend with a welcoming pat on the back. “Thanks for coming to help out on your day off.”

At this, Grantaire scoffed loudly. “Hah! Some of us didn’t get a choice.”

Courfeyrac nodded a greeting at the face of Bahorel looking down at him from the top of the ladder and scanned the room as he shrugged off his coat and draped it over a nearby chair. “Is it only the three of you here?”

“Four now,” Enjolras stated the obvious as if that somehow made a difference to the impressiveness of the small group. “Well, technically five. Joly’s gone out for snacks.”

Courfeyrac shook his head with bemused despair as he began rolling up his sleeves. “He’s gone out for – _what?_ He does know we’re in a room above a café right? I mean I know it’s closed for the refurb at the mo but Madame H did say we could help ourselves from the kitchen didn’t she?”

“She did but he wants a soya latte and can’t work the coffee machine,” said Enjolras with a shrug because he couldn’t work the thing either. “Besides, we probably shouldn’t take too many liberties. Not when we’re getting another season’s booking on this room for free.”

“Pfft! I would say that’s the least she owes us after we’re doing all this redecorating for no pay and out of our own pockets. Although if you hadn’t stuck flyers up everywhere and ruined the paintwork in the first place…” Grantaire mumbled as he prized open the lid from a new can of paint.

Enjolras squirmed a little at that remark, mostly because the truth of it was undeniable. He loved to see his husband in a happy, playful mood, of course, but when it clashed with his compulsion to actually knuckle down and get the work done, it often led to a little tension and sometimes even full blown arguments between them and he didn’t want to go down that path today. Quite apart from anything else, he didn’t want to piss anyone off (most especially Grantaire) and lose an extra pair of hands when they only had five as it was.

“Ok, so where do you want me to start?” said Courfeyrac, rubbing his hands together.

“The window frame needs sanding down and prepping if you’re ok with that?” said Enjolras and assumed the answer to his own question as he then delved into the box of supplies and dug out a pack of sandpaper and gloves, placing them into his friends already open hands.

“Fine by me,” said Courfeyrac as he took up his position at the window, pausing to switch the radio on as he passed by it. “But I need music on while I work.”

“Oh thank god!” Bahorel exclaimed as he climbed back down the step ladder and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands on. “I can’t stand listening to any more of these two flirting.”

“Ha! That’s not flirting!” Grantaire laughed and earned a ‘ _don’t-you-even-think-about-it’_ glare from Enjolras.

“No, that’s just my husband being his usual infuriating self.”

Grantaire balanced his paint brush on the edge of the tin and strode over to Enjolras, placing his hands on the man’s waist and nuzzling their noses together. “Good job I know you love it really.”

“Good job I love _YOU,_ ” said Enjolras, smiling in spite of himself, and leant in for a quick kiss because he couldn’t resist.

“You see? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Bahorel said with a huff as he scurried back up the ladder with a fresh tin of paint.

*

The boys worked for another fifteen minutes before Joly returned with coffees and blueberry muffins and they all stopped for a break, with the exception of Courfeyrac who didn’t feel he’d earned one yet and as he didn’t have coffee anyway ( _yeah, damn right you will get me one on the next run Joly, you thoughtless git_ ) he cracked on with the job in hand while the others pulled chairs up around the centre table.

“You know, it looks more… brown… from here,” said Grantaire as he propped his feet up on another chair and gazed back over at his recent handywork. “I thought it said ‘Cold Cappuccino’ on the tin?”

In response, Enjolras gazed down into his takeaway cup and held it out for inspection. “Looks the same to me.”

“That’s still hot.”

“What difference does that make? It’s still cappuccino.”

Bahorel laughed over a mouthful of cake. “Maybe lightens as it dries.”

Two pairs of eyes observed him and, from the other side of the room, Courfeyrac called “Are you talking about the paint or the coffee? Throw us one of those muffins over here would you?”

“Fuck knows!” said Joly, as he grabbed the last free muffin and flung it into the awaiting hands.

“So what’s left to do Enj?” asked Bahorel, as he washed the cake down with a long mouthful of coffee.

Enjolras scrunched up his nose in thought as he swept a glance over the room. “All the walls will probably need at least one more coat yet. Once Courf’s got the windows ready, they need glossing and I said if we had time we’d do the bathroom windows too. Oh, and the new door fittings need to be attached but I’ll have to do that another day as I left my drill at home.”

Joly caught the flat look on Grantaire’s face and grinned. “You guys sleeping here this week then?”

“Don’t encourage him,” Grantaire said with a roll of his eyes. It was endearing that Enjolras was so passionate about things but he couldn’t deny that he preferred it when the subject of those passions was himself. It could be hard occasionally to be with someone who was so intense and ardent about so many things that it was exhausting just to witness at times. However, he also secretly held his husband’s convictions in high esteem as well and any excuse to enjoy the fiery light that started shining in Enjolras’ eyes when he got worked up about something was always welcome.

“Just so you know, Enj, I’ve got plans for next year so if we could be done by then I’d really appreciate it,” said Bahorel.

Joly laughed and Enjolras smirked in response but a familiar look of subtle dejection began to shadow his expression and Grantaire watched it descend on him from across the table. There were few things that got Enjolras down more than feeling like he was fighting something alone. He didn’t seem to comprehend that other people’s limits usually stopped way before his own was reached. He had been told before that he cared just a little _too_ much, that he went just a little _too_ far, that he gave just a little _too_ much but Enjolras was so committed to his various occupations that he didn’t see how such a thing was even possible. Infuriating and downright bloody exhausting as it could be, Grantaire loved him for it.

“We will have it done in time for the reopening Apollo, don’t stress,” he said gently and gave his husband an encouraging smile. Then, downing the rest of his coffee in one go, he slammed down his cup and jumped to his feet. “Come on then guys, you bunch of lazy gits. Back to work.”

“Ha! You’re one to talk!” Bahorel laughed and playfully punched him in the arm as he scraped his chair back and stood up, dabbing a finger at the muffin crumbs he’d left in the wrapper before he picked up his cup and took it with him back up the step ladder, coffee in one hand, paint brush in the other.

“Gimme that tin of gloss then,” said Joly with an exaggerated sigh. “I gotta use the bathroom anyway. May as well start on the windows while I’m there.”

Courfeyrac let out a horrified gasp from across the room. “Wash your damn hands first!”

Enjolras thought he could hear the light banter of his friends in the background but he couldn’t focus on it because he was too busy sharing a look with his husband – a look which made him want to down tools right there and then, scoop Grantaire up in his arms and carry him away somewhere more private. Sadly, there was still too much Cold Cappuccino paint awaiting his attention.

He got up from the table as the others departed and walked around it to where Grantaire was sitting, reaching down to wrap an arm around his shoulders and press his lips to the side of the man’s face.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispered.

“Always got your back Apollo,” said Grantaire and meant it because there was truly nothing he wouldn’t do for this man. Hell, he’d take a bullet for him if he had to and happily die at his side as long as they could be together.

Because it was Enjolras.

And Enjolras was life, death, and everything in between.


	4. Thursday: The Fifth Of September

_*** In which Enjolras forgets an important date ***_

Enjolras stopped abruptly when he walked into work and came face to face with the exuberant face of his young secretary.

“Eponine, are you quite ok? I can practically see your grin from the car park. What’s made you so happy today? Or is it just the joys of working for me?”

The girl scoffed as she reached over the desk and held out a handful of letters for him to take. “Yeah, you’re just that much of a delight!”

“Goes without saying!” he teased and then frowned when the smirk returned to her face. “Seriously, what’s up?”

“Just think you’re a lucky guy,” she said with deliberate caginess and gave him a knowing wink. “Oh, and congratulations.”

“What for?”

Eponine’s eyes grew wider and she pressed her lips together as she shook her head and said “Oh man, are you in trouble!”

Enjolras still had no idea what the girl was talking about but when she nodded suggestively at his office, he turned the handle, opened the door and it all became suddenly clear.

“ _OH SHIT!_ ” he hissed quietly but apparently loud enough to warrant a laugh from the reception desk as he crossed the room to his desk and ran his hand over the cone of wrapped paper, out of which poked the heads of six red roses. There was only one reason – one tradition that had continued for four years now – until this day, on the fifth, when he had unintentionally broken it. “ _PONINE!_ ”

A shuffling sound and seconds later, Eponine was stood in the doorway, her arms folded, a sympathetic smile on her face. “Everything ok boss?”

“Tell me today isn’t September fifth.”

“Can’t do that I’m afraid.”

Enjolras’ shoulders sank as he let out an exasperated sigh and wiped a hand across his face. “Oh jesus, I’m such a shit husband.”

The girl gave his arm a squeeze which seemed to be code for _I agree but here, have some sympathy_ and then helped herself to a closer inspection of the flowers, lifting them from the desk and poking her nose (quite literally) into the fragrant heads.

“They smell divine. Why only six though?”

It took him a moment to realise she was speaking. The overwhelming image of the visible hurt in Grantaire’s beautiful dark eyes was searing its way like fire on flesh into his heart and he felt nauseous with it. Nothing – _NOTHING_ – was worse than causing pain to this loyal, loving man; even if it was unintentional.

“Oh… umm… it’s a tradition,” he said eventually, dragging his awareness back into the room with some difficulty. “On our first date he brought me red roses because he knew it was my favourite colour and then we had them at our wedding.”

“Aww, that’s adorable,” said Eponine with a puppy-dog pout. “But why six though? Are you on some kind of flower budget?”

The deadpan expression she received in return for that quip informed the girl that he was in no mood for humour right at that moment and she wrinkled her nose and patted him on the shoulder to show some affection instead. However, all this succeeded in doing was making his eyes suddenly glisten with unshed tears.

“Every year on our anniversary we both get each other six and then put them together in a vase to make the whole dozen… Bloody hell, that sounds so lame doesn’t it?” said Enjolras, his face immediately flushing a deeper shade of pink.

“Oh shut up, it’s romantic! I’d love to have someone to do things like that with. It’s not easy for us single folks, you know.”

“Yeah, I might be about to find out.”

Eponine made a show of rolling her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic! This is fixable. Ring him now and I’ll have a look online for a local florist that can deliver today. You only need six red roses. That can’t be too much of a challenge.”

Her words, though meant in kind, made him feel worse. What sort of rubbish husband couldn’t even remember to buy six poxy red roses for his other half on their wedding anniversary? It was hardly an enormous ask. Besides which, it was pointless now because Grantaire would know. He _always_ knew. And he deserved better. Half a dozen flowers were not going to be enough to make this up to him.

Eponine had left him alone in his office and was already stood back at her desk, typing _local florist delivery_ into the search engine when Enjolras called to her. “Ponine? Have you got my diary for today?”

She came back into the room a moment later carrying it. “What you thinking?”

“Have I got any clients to see this afternoon?”

She grinned knowingly. “No, just a training meeting but I can reschedule that for you.”

For the first time, he smiled as an idea began to form in his head. “Did I ever tell you how bloody great you are?”

“Not nearly enough times! But you can buy me lunch,” she said with a wink.

*

There were few benefits to being so goddamn angry but one of them (and by far the most useful) was the effect it had on Grantaire’s artistic ability. When the fire was stoked inside him, he could stand in front of a blank canvas and bleed out in paint with such fury that nothing short of a masterpiece would appear on the page. Perhaps the professional artist in him should be thankful in that case to be married to such an infuriating bloody idiot. Rage and frustration in any form seemed to fuel the muse but when said emotions were linked to Enjolras, the effects were tenfold.

It was early afternoon when he stood back from the current piece and cast a sharp eye over it. No one was more critical of his work than he was himself but it couldn’t be denied this painting was pretty good. _Thanks Enjrolas._

Grantaire was still stood admiring his work and chewing on his bottom lip when his phone started vibrating in his back pocket. He felt a familiar jolt through the entirety of his body as he scrambled to grab it with paint stained hands, angry at himself for still being so easily controlled by his husband and angrier still when he saw Combeferre’s name on the screen. It was a facetime call and as he let out a defeated sigh and hit the answer button, the smiling face of his friend appeared.

“Hey bud, I’m just calling to say happy anniversary! Congrats on surviving five years with Apollo. You’re a brave man, R, it’s gotta be said.”

Grantaire laughed softly and sadly. “Yeah… thanks Ferre.”

The smile on Combeferre’s face turned into a frown. “What’s up? You look miserable.”

“Nothing really,” Grantaire lied because he really didn’t want to have this conversation with anyone, especially a close friend. He moved the phone away from his face a little, hoping it would blur the clarity of his expression. Damn, face time calls felt so exposing when they caught you off guard, teetering on the brink of angry tears!

“Don’t give me that shit. What’s making you look like someone’s just ran over your cat on the one day of the year when you should be sickeningly loved up with stars in your eyes? I mean, Jesus, it’s bad enough most of the time anyway. Would have thought you’d be on cloud nine today!”

Grantaire huffed out a disheartened sigh. “Well lets just say that it’s nice someone remembered.”

“Oh he didn’t!” said Combeferre with a gasp and wide eyes. “Tell me he hasn’t forgotten?”

“I’d love to.”

The face on the screen moved out of focus as he shook his head and then his arm appeared in view as he brought it up to look at his watch. “I’m on route to work but I can swing by on my way. Are you at the studio?”

“Yeah, but-“

“But nothing. I’ll be there in ten and I’m bringing coffee.”

*

Despite his good intentions, the most useful thing about Combeferre’s visit seemed to be the extra large chia latte and two packs of individually wrapped biscotti that he brought with him. Grantaire was happy to yield to the brief gratification that comfort food offered. Hell, the man could have walked through the door carrying his weight in chocolate and it would have been happily consumed, if most likely then regretted later.

As it was, the warmth of the sweet hot drink soothed him from the inside out and as he sat back against one of the gigantic floor cushions and nursed it, Grantaire began to settle into a numbed kind of relaxation.

“Don’t take this the wrong way R, but I’m actually amazed that he remembered all the other anniversaries up until this one. He’s never struck me as that kind of guy,” said Combeferre as he stood in front of the new painting, tilting his head from one angle to the next as he tried to find the best way to appreciate it.

It was on the tip of Grantaire’s tongue to ask him what he meant by _that kind of guy_ but decided he probably didn’t want to know the answer to that anyway.

“What about me, Ferre?”

Combeferre’s head was tilted so far to one side now that it was resting on his shoulder. “I have no idea what the hell I’m looking at here by the way but it’s bloody mesmerizing. What do you mean? What about you?”

“Do I strike you as the kind of guy who would forget anniversaries? Would you ever expect me to forget something this important?” Grantaire asked, already knowing the answer.

“Well… I guess not, no,” Combeferre answered awkwardly, turning his attention from the painting to his friend and giving him a sad smile.

“And why not?” he asked and wasn’t cruel enough to make him reply this time. “I’ll tell you why not. Because bloody everyone knows just how crazily in love with him I am. The idea of me forgetting anything linked to Enj is as absurd as… as… oh I don’t fucking know… I genuinely can’t think of anything more unlikely to happen.”

“Hey, I see where you’re going with this and it’s bollocks. Enjolras loves you and you know it. Everyone knows it.”

“As much as I love him?” He hated that he sounded like a petulant child, keeping score of _who loves who the most_ but in his heightened emotional state, it felt very relevant right then.

Combeferre walked over to him and crouched down, one arm leaning on his knee and the other reaching out to squeeze his friend’s shoulder. Softly, he spoke. “R, you mustn’t think like this. Yes, it’s true that you are very different people in many ways but that doesn’t mean that you each can’t love the other with the same intensity, even if you show it in different ways. I’ve never for even a minute doubted that man’s devotion to you. It shines from him when you’re together, truly it does. Maybe you don’t see that but the rest of us do.”

“Shut up Ferre, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“I wouldn’t if I was you. You don’t really have the time, apart from anything else.”

Grantaire raised his face to shoot a curious frown at his friend. “What?”

Combeferre purposely waited a moment before he spoke again and then laughing softly, he reached into his pocket with one hand and then picked up Grantaire’s hands with the other and pressed something that felt like a bank card into his palm. “Here, you pitiful fool.”

Grantaire uncurled his fingers and looked at the rectangular plastic tucked in the folds of his hand. It was all a glossy white colour except for a gold stripe along the top with the word _SAVOY_ in swirly italics and in small black print along the bottom the words _Penthouse Suite._

“This is a key card for the Savoy,” he stated pointlessly. “That’s the hotel where we had our wedding reception.”

“Yeah, I remember! The most expensive bloody pint I’ve ever drank in my life,” Combeferre laughed. “I’d get your ass along at the first available opportunity because he’s already there… although maybe make him wait a little longer. He does deserve it, to be fair.”

“I don’t- what?”

“Jesus, R! Your husband is waiting in the swankiest hotel in the city for you, in the bloody penthouse no less, where you’ll be spending a blissful anniversary night together, although I really don’t want to dwell on that part, if you don’t mind,” he goaded and punched Grantaire playfully in the arm as he got to his feet. “And he’s sorry. Trust me, he is very sorry.”

“You’ve spoken to him?” Grantaire followed the man to his feet, still clutching the key card and trying to process the information.

“Yeah but he rang me to ask for my help. It was his idea, I’m just the delivery boy. And a bloody good actor too, if I do say so myself,” remarked Combeferre with a nonchalent shrug. “Got my uses. Now are you gonna get going or what? Because some of us have actually gotta get to work you know.”

Grantaire shook his head in disbelief and smiled at the man as he walked to the door, pulling his arms into the sleeves of his jacket as he went. In the open doorway, he paused and turned back to Grantaire.

“Oh, look at the receipt for your coffee,” Combeferre said, indicating where he’d left the slightly creased slip of paper on the bench. “I didn’t pay for it.”

“Ferre, I bloody love you,” Grantaire called before the other man laughed, gave him a wink and took his leave.

Alone, Grantaire moved to pick up the receipt and smoothing it down with his thumbs, he smiled at the red ink scribble that revealed itself:

_I’M SO SORRY. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH._

*

The question that needed answering first and foremost was whether he went straight to the hotel or if he detoured via home for a shower and change of clothes before he went anywhere. Considering how paint stained his work jeans were and how humid it had got in the studio over the course of the morning, the question answered itself really. Still, Grantaire wasn’t going to fool himself that he was going to play any games; there was no inclination or need to take his time and make Enjolras wait out of some twisted attempt at punishment or pretend to himself that he wasn’t as excited as a teenager in love for the first time. He just wanted to get to his husband and get there as fast as he possibly could. Had it been a less high brow establishment that he was heading to, he might have given in to the urgency and gone in his work clothes regardless but it was a very real possibility that he would have been refused entry if he had done. It really didn’t seem wise to get arrested for causing a scene and he didn’t trust his own self control if he were to be physically stopped and turned away when his husband was only a few doors down.

It was less than an hour later when Grantaire was checking himself into the reception of the Savoy Hotel, still feeling ridiculously underdressed in his clean, paint-free jeans and green polo shirt and also feeling strangely nervous too. It never ceased to amaze him that Enjolras could still make his stomach lurch and his legs tremble even after all this time. By the time he had taken the elevator to the very top floor and the recorded voice announced ‘penthouse suite’ as the doors opened, he was shaking.

The penthouse suite – more like a luxury apartment than a room – had been their honeymoon suite too and the last time he’d been in it was the first morning of his life as somebody’s husband. The memories came rushing back to Grantaire as he stepped into the little lobby and the elevator doors closed behind him. He swiped the key card with trembling fingers and opened the door.

The room opened out into a sweeping seating area with a huge leather couch and glass topped table, upon which he could see a bottle of something sat in a cooler. Across the carpeted floor was a short hallway that led to the bedroom and since Enjolras was nowhere else to be seen, he assumed it was wisest to head in that direction.

“Enj?” he called tentatively as he moved in suddenly slower steps.

“In here baby,” came the muffled but familiar voice on the other side of the door and Grantaire smiled to himself as he turned the handle and let himself into the room.

It didn’t matter that he’d told himself over and over again not to cry on the way there because as soon as he saw the scene before him, his eyes immediately brimmed over with tears.

“There’s my beautiful husband at last,” said a fully suited Enjolras from where he was propped up against the pillows with his legs crossed and a bunch of red roses resting on his lap. There was another bottle and two glasses sat on the bedside table, a dozen or so lightly flickering candles dotted about the room and a generous scattering of red petals across the bed and the figure waiting upon it.

“Holy fuck Enj,” said Grantaire as he clapped a hand to his mouth. Hardly the most elegant reaction but in the moment it was the best he could muster.

“Yes please,” said Enjolras with a grin and held out his hands. As Grantaire folded himself into the awaiting arms, Enjolras held him tightly and rubbed a hand across his back. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter and full of emotion as he buried his face in his husband’s hair and whispered “I’m so sorry R.”

Grantaire pulled away slightly so he could make eye contact but he kept his arms firmly enclosed around his beloved man as he kissed him gently and said “Shh. It’s Ok. I love you, you bloody idiot.”

Enjolras laughed and brought his hands up to cup his husband’s face. “I deserved that! And I love you too.”

He started kissing him again but after a moment, Grantaire drew away once more and raised a suspicious eye brow as he took in the sight of his husband properly for the first time since his arrival. “Hang on, why are you wearing a suit?”

Instinctively, Enjolras looked down at himself as if he’d forgotten the clothes that he’d dressed in and then observed Grantaire again with a slightly embarrassed smile. “Because I know you think I look irresistible in it for some reason. I’m just trying to get lucky really.”

“Ha! I think your chances are pretty good.”

“Glad to hear it because I didn’t sacrifice another dozen roses for nothing,” said Enjolras, as he scooped up a handful of petals from the bed and sprinkled them over Grantaire’s lap. Then, drawing him back into his arms, he whispered “Happy anniversary Grantaire… beautiful husband of mine.”

“Happy anniversary Apollo,” said Grantaire and let himself dissolve in the first of many endless kisses.


	5. Friday - Downward Dog

_*** In which the boys attend a yoga class and melt over some very literal fluff ***_

As he got out of the car, slammed the door shut and turned back to Enjolras with his hand outstretched, Grantaire took in the less than enthusiastic expression on his husband’s face and said “You really need to look happier Apollo. We’re doing this for Jehan, remember? You can’t walk in with that scowl on your face.”

“I’m not scowling,” said Enjolras and scowled even more as a result. “Besides, they can’t read me like you can.” It was infuriating that he was such an open book to his husband but he couldn’t deny it had its uses at times.

“Trust me, it’s obvious you’d rather be anywhere other than here,” said Grantaire as Enjolras walked round the car to join him and linked their hands.

“That’s not true,” he replied, feeling suddenly exposed by the all too accurate surveillance of his observant husband. Premature feelings of guilt began to sneak up on him and he consciously began practising his _happy Enjolras_ face. “This better then?”

Grantaire turned to his husband and laughed at the forced smile that, if he wasn’t so goddamn beautiful, would have been frankly terrifying. “Yeah, that’s just scary! You’re here to do yoga, not murder someone.”

Enjolras shoved him playfully and laughed, which was easier in that moment than smiling had been previously. Thank god for his saviour of a husband! He knew he was a perfectionist and the idea of doing something in front of other people that he had not become an accomplished master of yet was unnecessarily daunting but equally, he knew how important it was to support his friend on the first day of his new venture. Jehan had been going on for months now about starting up a yoga class and now that he’d finally done it, there was no excuse good enough to not attend the first session and show their support. Still, Enjolras secretly hoped he wouldn’t have to attend too many more. He wasn’t sure he was anywhere near flexible enough for it.

They found Jehan in an open plan room at the top of a winding staircase. Although it was a vast space, it looked more like a sprawling hallway than an enclosed room but maybe that was the attraction; it certainly felt like an inviting airy space and there was ample room for stretching without accidentally elbowing anyone in the face. Tucked behind long heavy drapes, wide windows were thrown open and the faint hum of the distant traffic could be heard below. From somewhere nearby, the scent of sandalwood floated on the air, great wafts of it clouding over the room every few minutes.

“Wow, it’s very chilled in here,” Grantaire said, unwittingly announcing their arrival and drawing the attention of Jehan from across the room who broke away from his conversation with Feuilly to raise a hand in welcome.

Grantaire returned the wave but was quickly drawn back to his husband when he felt a hand grip his arm.

“R, please tell me what the hell Joly is doing?” Enjolras asked with feigned fear and earned a laugh from both his husband and Bossuet who was sat nearby, leaning against the wall and observing the same scene.

Joly, at the centre of it, bent his head to look up from where it was touching the floor next to his feet, his rear end protruding in the air and pulled a face. “Ha bloody ha. It’s called stretching you tosser and I’m gonna have zero sympathy for you later when your muscles seize up.”

“Fuck, it’s suddenly got a lot chillier in here!” Enjolras teased as he joined Bossuet and sat with his back to the wall and his knees under his chin. “Is this the observation corner?”

Bossuet turned his head and smirked at him. “You got dragged along too, huh?”

“Cut it out, you two,” Grantaire said in a hushed voice as Jehan strode over to them with a wide if slightly nervous smile on his face.

“Guys, you made it! Thank god. I had such a sinking feeling that no one was gonna show.”

His words and the sincere look of abject terror that accompanied them filled Enjolras with immediate regret and he jumped to his feet, grabbing Bossuet’s arm to pull him along too.

“We’ve got your back, bud,” he said, fighting the guilt-ridden urge to throw his arms around his friend and pull him into a tight embrace. To be fair, how many of his meetings at Musain had not only Jehan but all their other friends rocked up to in all weather and all moods, whether they wanted to be there or not just to support him? He was being an ass to not be as eager to return the favour now the chance had presented itself. Goddamn Grantaire for always being right! There was no way he was going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it though.

“Where’s the rest of the crew?” asked Joly as he rose himself back up to a standing position, where he immediately wobbled backwards and clutched his forehead. “Woah… stood too quick.”

Jehan chuckled as he reached out a hand to steady him. “Yeah, maybe leave the stretching to me mate. We’ll just start off with some light asanas today. Don’t want you all breaking hips on me.”

“Didn’t realise yoga was so dangerous,” Feuilly commented as he strode over to the small group. “You ok Joly?”

“Shut up.”

Jehan laughed. “In answer to your question, Bahorel’s in bed with a sickness bug apparently and Ferre’s got a late clinic so neither of them are coming. Courf should be here though.” He glanced at his watch. “Another ten minutes before we’re supposed to start though.”

As he spoke, the sound of footsteps on the stairs drew the attention of the group and two timid looking women with high ponytails and yoga mats under their arms looked ever so slightly terrified to find themselves being stared down by six pairs of eyes.

“Um… is this the right place for the beginner’s yoga class?” one of them enquired meekly.

“Yes! Yes, sorry. Please come in,” said Jehan as he moved across the room to meet them.

“I’m glad someone other than us has turned up,” Grantaire whispered when he was out of ear shot.

Bossuet snorted in response. “I’m not! Don’t particularly want an audience seeing me make an idiot of myself.”

“Don’t worry mate, no one’s looking at you anyway,” Joly teased and earned himself a punch in the arm. “What’s up Enj?”

Enjolras started at the sound of his name, his attention snapping back to the group with a jolt. “Huh? Oh, I was just wondering where Courf is. It’s not like him to be late and we all know he’d never let any of us down. I hope he’s ok is all.”

“Should one of us ring him do you think?” Grantaire asked, realising as he spoke the words that neither he nor Enjolras had brought their phones with them anyway. Yoga pants didn’t exactly accommodate pockets for bulky mobiles.

Before any of his friends had a chance to answer that question, Jehan began walking back over to them and they fell into a conspiratorial silence as he approached.

“I’m going to get things started in a minute. If you guys are all ready?” he said and then shook his head and laughed. “Jesus, don’t look so terrified! You’re not about to go into battle. I promise you’ll all get out alive, ok?”

“Yeah, can I have that in writing?” Bossuet mumbled as he started swinging his arms back and forth in some sort of weak attempt at a warm-up.

The two girls who had looked so apprehensive on first impressions were now busying themselves setting up their yoga mats right in the centre of the room and performing perfectly professional warm up movements with their lithe toned bodies and looking like they really had no business being at a ‘beginners’ yoga class. When Jehan walked to the front of the room and called instructions back to the boys to grab a yoga mat from the box in the corner and find themselves a space, Joly and Feuilly both chose theirs either side of the two girls, like ridiculously inept bookends.

“Fucks’ sake, anything for a pretty face,” said Bossuet with a roll of his eyes and grabbed the most hidden spot he could claim at the very back of the room.

Through a lack of options, Enjolras and Grantaire took their places next to the row of windows where a cool breeze was making the curtains flutter, Grantaire in front of his husband.

“Nice view,” Enjolras whispered and received a shot of those deep sparkly eyes. “Can’t wait for you to bend over.”

“ _Behave!_ ” Grantaire hissed with a smirk.

Jehan clapped his hands together, successfully drawing the attention of the class and took his place front and centre.

“ _OK, EVERYONE! WELCOME AND NAMASTE,_ ” he began.

*

Considering none of the boys had ever been to a yoga class before, it unfolded smoothly with not one of them falling over once or damaging any appendages but how much of that was skill and how much was Jehan’s reluctance to push them too hard was up for debate. Enjolras, for one, was fairly pleased with his performance and pleasantly surprised by how much he enjoyed it – a factor which had _NOTHING_ to do with having a great vantage point from which to relish the sight of his husband stretching into various positions.

“How come you never bend like that for me?” he whispered as they were carrying their rolled-up mats back to the storage box and he was fighting the urge to reach out a hand to trail over Grantaire’s behind. Having it paraded in front of him for the last hour was excruciatingly tempting.

Grantaire gave him a sideways smirk that did nothing to dampen the fire that was being stoked inside Enjolras. “Think I might have picked up some new moves. Fancy an early night?”

“Try and stop me.”

Considering how unrestrictive yoga pants were, it was doubtless a blessing that both men’s minds were drawn away from the conversation when they turned back to the room and caught sight of Courfeyrac in the doorway. He was talking with Jehan but acknowledged his other friends with a nod and they wordlessly made their way over to him.

“Hey guys, how was the yoga?” he asked cheerfully and instantly put their fears to rest.

“Where the hell were you?” Enjolras demanded, ignoring the question because his seemed vastly more urgent. “We were worried.”

In an expression of his contrition, Courfeyrac tilted his head and said “Sorry guys. Couldn’t be helped though. The puppies finally arrived.”

“Did someone say puppies?” asked Feuilly, joining the little gathering in the doorway, looking especially pleased with himself as he folded the torn edge of paper with the scribbled phone number on and tucked it into his pocket, earning a collective show of rolled eyes.

“Euphrasie had the pups at last! How many did she have? Are they all ok?” Grantaire asked in quick succession as Enjolras drew his friend into a brief congratulatory embrace and Courfeyrac grinned proudly as if it had been he himself who had birthed the litter.

“Five in total. Four of them are all black like her and one has a white patch over one side of its face. So adorable!” he reported with unashamed devotion. “They’re all good as far as I can tell. Poor Euphrasie, she already looks exhausted. I had to wait until Ferre got home from work before I dared leave her. He was pissed that he missed it.”

No one bothered asking for clarity on whether he was talking about the yoga class or the birth as knowing Combeferre, it was likely to be both in equal measures.

“What did he say? Bet he wants to keep them all doesn’t he?” Grantaire asked with an affectionate laugh.

Courfeyrac pulled a face. “Oh god, don’t even go there! We’ll have a damn kennel up and running by the end of the month if he has his way. To be fair, they are pretty cute. Is gonna be hard enough for me to let any of them go.”

“Ah, you’ll be glad to be rid of them after a few weeks,” said Feuilly with a self-assured nod. “Once you get sick of all the mess and shit and noise.”

Courfeyrac frowned. “Yeah thanks for that.”

“You’ll easily find good homes for them when the time comes,” said Grantaire with a smile and then caught the wide-eyed look on husband’s face and laughed. “Don’t even think about it!”


	6. Saturday - Stars

_*** In which the boys decide to (literally) camp it up***_

It had been Enjolras’ idea but that was no surprise as Enjolras had all the best ideas. Grantaire was willing to make such an admittance anytime but especially when those ideas were so marvellously beneficial to him. And to be fair, he too wanted to try out the new tent before they took it on its first proper trip away so why not pitch it up in the garden and spend the night outside? It was a warm September Saturday and they had enough dry wood in the log store to keep the fire pit going all night if needed. If he was honest though, the best reason of all was the excuse to watch Enjolras wrestling with the humongous canvas and insisting he “can manage” while his skin was getting more flushed by the second and his hair was sticking up every which way.

Grantaire was stood at the edge of the grass, one hand tucked in his jeans pocket and the other around a mug of coffee, smiling at the entertainment of his husband. His offers of help had already been shot down multiple times by the glare of determination with which he was so well acquainted and he knew how pointless it was to continue giving them so there was little else to do but stand back and admire the view.

“I swear to god this is at least twice the size of the one we took to Glastonbury,” Enjolras mumbled around a mouthful of tent pegs as he sat back on his heels and threaded the final pole into place.

“It wants to be for how much it cost!”

With the last pole finally slotted into position, Enjolras got to his feet and moved to stand beside his husband and observe his work which, for all the sweat and toil, was still no more than a flat albeit gigantic rectangle on the ground at this point.

“Wow… big,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and wishing that, just for once, he hadn’t been so stubborn. “Umm… you might have to help me with this bit.”

“You think?” Grantaire grinned at the way the other man squirmed so uncomfortably at the prospect and didn’t risk giving him a chance to change his mind, picking up the discarded mallet and repositioning himself on the opposite side of the project. “Ready when you are.”

With two pairs of hands, they made light work of raising the tent and securing the guy lines and groundsheet, preparing the temporary home for the next few hours and making it comfortable. The inflatable bed fit inside with room to spare and it took extra pillows and cushions from the conservatory suite to pad out the space around it. Once their king size duvet was draped over, it looked luxurious and cosy at the same time and altogether too inviting to resist.

“Oh my god, you’re such a kid!” Grantaire laughed as Enjolras threw himself backwards right into the middle of it with a satisfied sigh, eyes closed and arms outstretched.

“Don’t pretend you don’t wanna do exactly the same,” Enjolras replied and grinned when he did.

They lay side by side in silence for a moment, enjoying their accomplishment, the sunlight from outside shedding a warm amber glow upon the interior as it bled through the dark rust colour of the fabric.

“You could fit five people in here,” Enjolras noted and laughed when he turned his head to the side and caught the suspicious look on his husband’s face. “You not up for an all night orgy with the guys then?”

“Bloody good job I know you’re joking,” Grantaire answered with a smirk. “Besides, you wouldn’t have enough energy for anyone else after I’d finished with you.”

In a second, Enjolras leaped up (discovering as he did so that it wasn’t all that easy on an inflatable mattress) and rearranged himself so he was straddling his husband, trapping him in place between his thighs. “Now that sounds like a challenge to me! Not the sharing bit though. You’re mine. All mine. All for me.”

“Greedy fucker,” said Grantaire but his words were swallowed by Enjolras’ mouth.

*

As evening set in, the fire pit became an unavoidable necessity if they were going to withstand the dropped temperatures of night, so quickly was the air cooling with every further descent of the sun on the horizon. Enjolras took up the job of building and tending the fire and by the time it was burning strong and steady, the night had darkened considerably and the first stars were visible in the cloudless sky. They ate dinner by the warmth of the flames and brought more cushions and blankets outside onto the grass so they could make the most of the night before it became too cold and the retreat of the tent beckoned.

Within the space of just an hour, the moon had risen in the black sky and a cool whisper of a gentle breeze was snaking its way around the garden.

“Doesn’t feel authentic enough,” Enjolras mused as he took in the scene before hopping to his feet and diverting into the house to turn off the lights and lock the doors. The dark shadow of the building fell over the garden and made the bright orange flames seem even more alive by comparison. Re-joining Grantaire in front of the fire and snuggling up against him as the other man wrapped a blanket around them both, he held his hands out to warm his palms. “S’better. No going back in the house until morning.”

Grantaire laughed softly as he leant his head down onto Enjolras’ shoulder. “What if we need the loo? You’re not pissing on my hydrangeas.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Think there’s a bucket in the shed.”

“Fuck me, this is romantic.”

Enjolras sniggered as he kissed the top of Grantaire’s head. “Ok then.”

“Ok what?”

Getting back to his feet, Enjolras unzipped the tent and dragged the bed half way out of it, just close enough to the fire to keep it warm, and then climbed on and beckoned for Grantaire to join him, pulling the duvet over them both when he did. “My baby wants romance, I will oblige.”

“Yeah, this is nice,” said Grantaire with a satisfied sigh as he burrowed his face into Enjolras’ chest and curled himself around his body, reaching out an arm to hold him close. “You’re really warm too.”

Enjolras moved his face to rest another kiss on top of the other man’s head and then he looked back up at the sky above them and said, “Loads of stars out tonight.”

Grantaire shuffled round a bit so his head was laying on Enjolras’ shoulder and he was looking up at the same view. “Wow. Really clear sky. Wonder how many millions of stars are shining down on us right now. Even the ones we can’t see.”

“Billions more like.”

“Trillions probably.”

“Too many to count anyway.”

They fell back into a restful silence for a while, the sound of the crackling wood in the fire pit almost meditative when coupled with the whisper of the gentle breeze. Grantaire closed his eyes as he felt the steady rise and fall of Enjolras’ chest below him and smiled as he felt the duvet pulled up further around them.

“Goddamn it,” said Enjolras.

“What?”

“I’m gonna have to google it tomorrow now.”

With a laugh, Grantaire opened his eyes and looked back up at the sky that his husband had been staring at. “Are you actually trying to count them?”

“No, that’d make me crazy.”

“M’saying nothing.”

“The insolence! I’m wounded.”

“So come on then, name some stars for me,” Grantaire asked, stretching his legs out under the duvet and nestling his head further into Enjolras’ shoulder. “What are we looking at?”

“How should I know?”

“Cuz you know everything. It’s bloody annoying as hell.”

Enjolras snorted a breath of air that tickled Grantaire’s hair. “I really don’t.”

Grantaire waited, smiling to himself, and inwardly counted down the seconds. 5, 4, 3, 2 –

“That’s Polaris,” said Enjolras, pointing in a vague direction above his head.

“You do know I have absolutely no idea which one you’re pointing at, right?”

Enjolras snuggled his face against Grantaire’s and picked up his hand, holding it up to the sky and trying to manoeuvre his line of sight so they were both looking along the same trajectory.

“There… you see those five stars that look a bit like a bowl? That’s the Big Dipper and the two stars next to it are the handle,” he said, moving Grantaire’s hand along to trace the pattern. “Follow those two on a straight line down and it points right at the North Star, see?”

“Uhh… kind of,” said Grantaire, squinting his eyes as if that somehow helped.

Enjolras grinned as he drew them both round in his arms so their noses were touching. “You’re an artist. Aren’t you supposed to have an eye for detail?”

“Hey, it’s a big sky,” said Grantaire as he hooked a knee over Enjolras’ leg to pull him closer. “And I only have lowly human eyes remember? Not all of us are gods, Apollo.”

The grin on Enjolras’ face softened into a loving smile and he pressed a kiss to the other man’s lips. “You are to me.”


	7. Sunday - Ice Cream Makes Everything Better

_*** In which Grantaire is ill and Enjolras has to look after him. ***_

“Hold up, I just wanna make sure I’ve got this right. You’re actually not coming to the meeting?” Combeferre repeated himself yet again, making no attempt to hide the shock in his voice.

Enjolras answered with a purposely loud sigh of frustration as he trapped the phone between his ear and shoulder to free both his hands, scooping the tea bag out of the cup and flicking it into the awaiting bin. “Fucks sake. What is it with this always treating me like some kind of obsessive militant nut?”

“Because that’s what you are Enj, but we love you for it. And you’re lucky we do too considering how many times we’ve had to pay your bail.”

“Point made,” said Enjolras meekly. “I still don’t think R’s forgiven me for last Christmas.”

The Anti-Fur demonstration outside the new department store that was selling the atrocities _had not_ gone well; the night in the prison cell was bad enough but he was happy to endure that for the cause. What was less tolerable was the frosty reception he’d received from his husband when he had returned home the next day on Christmas Eve and the two-week sex ban that had followed.

“Like that could ever be true! That man worships the ground you walk on.”

Form where he was stood leaning against the kitchen sink, Enjolras craned his head back to catch a glimpse of Grantaire in the lounge. He could just about see the top of his hip and shoulder where he was curled up on the couch. Instinctively, he lowered his voice when he replied. “As I do him. And that’s why he always comes first. I’d be a pretty shit husband to up and leave him right now when he’s feeling like this.”

“Agreed. So what do you want me to cover at the meeting?” Combeferre asked.

“Just the agenda for the rally next weekend really. Oh, and see if you can get numbers of how many of the leaflets have been distributed so far. Let me know if I need to print more out. I’ve e-mailed the main notes to you.”

“Consider it done. Now go look after R and tell him I hope he feels better soon. I’ll check in with you later today.”

Enjolras felt himself relax a little. It was hard to step back and hand the reins to someone else but when that someone else was his best friend, it made the prospect a little less daunting. As he said goodbye and hung up the phone, he was also glad that he now had some uninterrupted time to give Grantaire his full attention, even though he had his doubts about the usefulness of it right now. It was such a rarity for his husband to fall ill like this but getting caught in that thunderstorm a few days ago had done him no favours.

Grabbing the unopened box of tissues with one hand and the mug of tea with the other, Enjolras made his way through to the lounge.

“Ok, I’ve added an extra sugar and this is the last box of tissues but I can go-“ he stopped as he reached the couch and looked down at the sleeping face of Grantaire.

Times like this scared him a little. Fair enough, it was only a head cold and nothing that rest and care couldn’t eventually fix but Grantaire was the strong one, even if he would never acknowledge it. He might not have been on the front lines of protests, fighting for justice, getting himself arrested for his revolutionary beliefs and offering himself up as a sacrifice for the greater good but he was the anchor that kept Enjolras grounded; the calm sea upon which his ship could sail and the gentle breeze that guided it. He was the pillar of strength upon which Enjolras leaned without even realising he was doing so most of the time until occasions such as this when the poor man was not strong enough to hold himself up, let alone his husband as well. And it was times like this when Enjolras was served a brutal reminder of how vulnerable Grantaire was capable of being.

Carefully, he placed the items he was carrying onto the coffee table and kneeled down on the floor beside the couch, deliberating for just a moment before he stroked a tentative hand through Grantaire’s hair. A few greasy curls had fallen forward across his face so Enjolras brushed them away, tucking them back behind the man’s ear and making him stir. Without opening his eyes, Grantaire leaned his face against the warm hand of his husband who trailed a thumb softly over his cheek.

“S’that my tea?” Grantaire asked groggily, his eye lids fluttering with the effort of opening.

Enjolras cupped his palm to the man’s cheek and leaned over to kiss his forehead. “Shh. Go back to sleep. I’ll make you another one when you wake up.”

His eyelids closed again and he was motionless, leading Enjolras to believe he had taken the advice, but just as he was about to ease his hand out from under Grantaire’s face, the other man looked up at him again and groaned dejectedly as he pulled himself up to a sitting position.

“So thirsty,” he croaked, holding out a hand for his cup. When Enjolras passed it over, he took a long swig before his head fell back against the couch cushions and he closed his eyes again with a hefty sigh. “Urgh…”

“Baby, wouldn’t you be better off in bed? You look really warm too. Are you burning up? Shall I get you a cold flannel or something? Is your head still aching? I think you can have some more pills now,” Enjolras babbled anxiously, checking his watch for the time and mentally scanning back the minutes to the last dose. _Was that four hours yet? And oh god, if it was just under four hours, did it make a difference? Christ, he’d make a shit nurse!_

“Enj-“ Grantaire interrupted, a clear warning in both his voice and the way held his hands up in a way that seemed to communicate the clear message of _shut the fuck up before I punch you in the face._

Enjolras pressed his lips together tightly and awaited the next instruction, feeling more and more helpless by the second. The compulsion to gather Grantaire up in his arms and carry him to bed was getting harder to ignore, yet he was equally as scared of touching him and inadvertently making him feel worse somehow.

After another excruciatingly long minute or two of silence during which Grantaire sat perfectly still with his head leant back, his eyes closed and his chest moving in and out with deep breaths ( _should he be breathing like that? Was it normal with just a cold to have to take such big breaths? Oh god, should he ring for an ambulance?)_ Enjolras finally risked uttering more nervous words. “R… what do I need to do to help you?”

“Just let me sleep,” Grantaire grumbled without opening his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed then? I really think you’d be better there than-“

“ _ENJ!_ Will you please stop fussing? Fucks sake… I don’t need to be in bed,” Grantaire said and promptly got up and walked off into the bedroom, stumbling slightly on the way.

Enjolras managed to wait for about ten seconds before he got up and followed him. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching his husband struggling more than necessary to kick his jeans off and clamber onto the bed, fighting the compulsion to rush over and assist him in the task. As Grantaire dropped down face first onto the bed, limbs splayed out across the mattress and a line of perspiration collecting in the curve of his back, Enjolras moved closer.

“I think you’re burning up,” he said, running a careful hand across Grantaire’s shoulder blades. “Should I call a doctor out?”

The sound of a little moan was stifled by the duvet below him before Grantaire eased his head round onto the side and gazed up into the concerned face of his husband. “It’s just a cold Enj, stop panicking… Am just gonna sleep for a while… Be much better when I wake up… Don’t need to watch over me.”

It sounded like a dismissal, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. “Well then… I’ll leave you in peace for a bit.”

“Ok,” Grantaire muttered in a barely audible whisper as he closed his eyes again and reached out an arm to wrap around Enjolras’ waist. Within moments, he was asleep, holding onto his husband.

Enjolras watched him for a moment, before he eased himself down into a more comfortable position at the man’s side and snuggled a little closer. His own eyes stayed wide open though. Just in case.

*

Contrary to his wishful presumption, Grantaire didn’t seem to feel ‘ _much bette_ r’ when he awoke a few hours later.

By this point, Enjolras had taken himself out of the way and was keeping busy on the computer in the lounge but when he heard movement, he retraced his steps to the bedroom and found Grantaire in the process of swinging his legs over the side of the bed and stumbling to his feet.

“Enj… can you get me a drink of water?” he uttered huskily and when Enjolras reappeared a moment later with a glass, he took it from him and downed it all in one go. “God my throat.”

“You don’t feel as hot now,” Enjolras concluded with a hand to Grantaire’s forehead. “Thank god for that at least. Can I get you anything else?”

It took him a moment to register the question. “Umm… I think I’m gonna have a bath. Would you run it for me? Not too hot.”

The relief at having something practical that he could actually accomplish with ease was gratefully welcomed by Enjolras who set his full attention to the task within moments of it being requested. He was almost sorry when the job was done and his usefulness expired. However, as Grantaire lowered himself into the warm water with a satisfied sigh, he reached out an arm and caught Enjolras’ wrist.

“Keep me company?” he asked hopefully.

It wasn’t the first time Grantaire had made such a request but it _was_ the first time that it didn’t involve the need for Enjolras to be in the bath with him and considerably more active. On this occasion, his husband was content and more than willing to drag the wicker chair over from the corner and tuck himself into it to stay by his side. The perception that he could be helpful just by existing was a nice feeling.

Relaxing back into the water, Grantaire sank briefly beneath the surface before he resurfaced a moment later, wiping a hand across his face and said, “Tell me how the meeting went this morning.”

“Uhh… I didn’t go to it,” Enjolras replied, not bothering to try and hide the confused frown from his face. “Don’t you remember?”

Grantaire caught his eye with a guilty smile. “Sorry… it’s a bit of a blur. Thought I dreamt you being here. You missed the meeting?”

The incredulousness of the question made him stare. “Of course I missed it. Do you honestly think I would leave you when you’re ill?”

“How many times do I need to say it’s just a cold?” said Grantaire but his words were accompanied by a smile this time. “I’m not going to break. You don’t need to worry so much.”

“Be that as it may, I still can’t believe you think I’m such a shit husband that I would put the ABC before you.” The tone of his voice was heavy with his own guilt, needless as it was on this occasion.

“I didn’t say that. Stop getting huffy and get me some ice cream.”

With a smirk, Enjolras stood and leant down to kiss the smile on Grantaire’s lips. “I’m starting to think you’re taking advantage of my good nature.”

“Wouldn’t do such a thing,” he replied with a mischievous wink. “And don’t kiss me. You’ll get my germs.”

“Like that’s gonna stop me!” Enjolras replied, returning the wink with a click of his tongue as he turned to leave, getting as far as the doorway before Grantaire called him back.

“Enj?”

“Yup?”

“You make a sexy nurse.”

“You know it baby,” Enjolras called back over his shoulder as he made his way to the freezer for ice cream.

END


End file.
